


One Half Won't Do

by lajulie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Rumors, Sharing a Bed, Undercover as a Couple, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lajulie/pseuds/lajulie
Summary: The latest rumor to hit Echo Base: Solo and the Princess are not only together, but actually ran off and got married during their latest mission. When Leia and Han return and confirm the rumor is true, everyone is shocked, from High Command to their best friends (who are both a little put out not to have been invited to the wedding). But there's more to this marriage than meets the eye--and more truth in Leia and Han's vows than either of them are ready to admit to themselves.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 55





	One Half Won't Do

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a response to the "tropes" prompt from @hanleiachallenge on Tumblr, almost a year ago, but grew far beyond that. Many thanks to Amilyn (@amilynh) for her brainstorming support when this fic was just a random idea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry Wookiee and a less-than-pleased Jedi provide proof for the entire base that the rumor of Han and Leia's elopement is more than just a rumor. Carlist Rieekan feels a bit responsible -- he didn't think their mission would come to _this_.

Carlist Rieekan’s head was still reeling. _What the hell happened? When did I lose control?_

This day had been unbelievable from start to finish. First the return of Princess Leia, Skywalker, Solo, and Chewbacca from their supply mission, which should have signaled the end of the outrageous rumors capturing the attention of the entire base but instead had only intensified and confirmed them. Then Jan Dodonna calling an emergency High Command meeting to deal with the “crisis”—sans Princess Leia, of course, who was one half of the supposed crisis. And finally, Leia herself quietly approaching Carlist on his way to the High Command meeting, to invite him to dinner on the _Falcon_ later with her and her husband.

 _My husband_. Her exact words. She smiled as she said it, a small smile that Carlist recalled seeing on her before, on Alderaan. It was a mix of proud and penitent, like she’d done something she wasn’t supposed to, but it had ended well and was thus difficult to argue against.

He wasn’t her father, but—

“Your Highness,” he began, and quickly corrected himself at her frown. “Leia.” She didn’t like it when Carlist used her formal title outside of command, but in stressful moments it was a hard habit to break. “If this is some kind of elaborate prank—I don’t think I have to tell you that it’s not very funny.”

“It’s not a prank,” Leia said. He saw no teasing intent in her face, and she seemed earnestly serious, though one could never tell. The Princess was notoriously hard to read, especially if she wanted to keep something private. “I know it’s, ah, sudden, but—“

“You weren’t supposed to actually elope!” he hissed, finally unable to hold back. Nobody was nearby to hear him, but if this was real, Carlist felt a little, well, _responsible_ for sending them on that mission together to begin with.

Leia put her hand on his. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve been like a—I’m sorry we didn’t include you.” She did look genuinely sorry, though this was not what he’d been expecting her to apologize for.

“Luke and Chewie will be at dinner,” she continued. “They’re still a little upset with us, too.”

Upset was a bit of an understatement, if Chewbacca’s outburst in the hangar earlier today was any indication. Carlist hadn’t paid a lot of attention to Skywalker’s demeanor, but he hadn’t seemed particularly happy at the time either.

“Will you come?” Leia asked, and in the moment all Carlist could think of was Bail’s face when he’d asked Carlist to look out for Leia, as she prepared to assume her new Senate seat on Coruscant.

“Of course,” Carlist assured her. He hadn’t failed Bail, really; there was no protecting Leia from the Empire, or from herself. And Solo was good for her, seemed to understand her. He just hadn’t expected them to jump to _this_.

* * *

Wes Janson honestly had never expected to fully settle this particular bet; he’d figured he’d make his cut little by little as the stakes changed and more people got in on the pool. But today, a single scene in the hangar had resolved the first set of bets for good.

The arguing duo coming off the _Falcon_ was not Han and Leia this time, but Han and Chewie. Leia and Luke followed them, and now that Wes could see him, Luke looked a little uncomfortable as well.

Seeing as how almost none of the nearby Rebels—many of whom had “just happened” to be around to witness the group’s return this morning—could understand Shryiiwook, the argument was a bit one-sided for most of the onlookers at first.

“For the last damn time, I’m sorry! What the hells else am I supposed to say?” Han yelled back to a particularly vociferous set of growls.

Solo? Apologizing for something? That was intriguing. And normally Han tended to stalk off after an argument, but he seemed to be hanging back, like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

Wes had really enjoyed the little rumor that had been going around while they were all gone—had made quite the little bundle from the increased bets, as it happened—but that thing couldn’t possibly be true. Could it?

He sidled up to Luke. “Hey, what the hell’s going on?”

Luke actually looked pretty damned annoyed. “Ask Han and Leia,” he said darkly, and this time he was the one stalking off.

Hobbie and Wedge came up behind Wes. “What’s wrong with Luke?” Wedge asked. Wes just shook his head.

They weren’t the only ones who’d gathered at the spectacle. Chewie was still reading Han the riot act, and—was that Princess Leia _taking Solo’s hand_? Voluntarily?

“Oh dear!” a metallic voice exclaimed, and the three Rogues whipped around to face Threepio.

“What’s Chewie yelling about?” Wedge demanded, and the rest of the group gathered nearby turned their attention to the droid.

With the exception of formal diplomatic situations, _flustered_ seemed to be Threepio’s default setting, but his flailing seemed even worse than usual right now. “Oh, my—“

“Threepio—“ Wedge began.

“I’m sorry, Commander Antilles. If I’m not mistaken, it appears that Chewbacca is upset that Captain Solo failed to invite him to his wedding.”

_What the nine hells…_

Wedge looked as stunned as Wes felt. “No….”

“Wedding?” Wes prompted, still barely believing his ears. “You sure? He said _wedding_?”

“It is difficult to do an exact translation to Basic, but Chewbacca did use the term for the formal bonding ritual, yes. He expressed anger that Captain Solo would marry Princess Leia without informing him, as Chewbacca owes a life debt to him. He also detailed a number of situations in which he had saved Captain Solo’s, ah, ‘hairless backside.’ Then there were a series of curses. Many of them were quite graphic; I would prefer not to translate them, if you don’t mind,” Threepio explained.

By this time, quite the crowd was gathered along the edge of the hangar, including several members of High Command, who immediately pulled Threepio aside for a more thorough translation of what had gone down. When Wes looked back, Solo and the Princess had already disappeared, evidently together.

“Hot damn,” Hobbie said. “It _is_ true.”

* * *

Leia fumed as she made her way back to the _Falcon_ for dinner. She’d expected their debriefing from the mission to be a little more painful than normal, given the surprise they’d sprung on everyone, but she hadn’t expected it to be quite so _insulting_.

For one thing, they’d insisted on debriefing each of them individually rather than conducting a collective debrief, which was both a complete waste of time and clearly an excuse to ask about a number of things irrelevant to the mission. At times, it felt more like a tabloid interview than a review of a covert operation. (A highly _successful_ covert operation, Leia noted with pride, not that General Dodonna appeared to care.)

Additionally, apparently at least half of High Command was under the impression that she was still sixteen years old and incapable of making any decisions for herself. The only options they seemed to have considered were that Han had somehow drugged, hypnotized, or kidnapped her, or that she was a naïve girl with a rebellious streak and a schoolgirl crush that had gotten way out of hand.

 _Even when I_ was _sixteen, I was running covert actions for the Rebellion,_ she thought angrily. _Two years ago, I was tortured by kriffing Darth Vader and never broke. I watched my entire planet die and somehow survived. And now you think I can’t be trusted to make a decision about my own damned life?_

When she really thought about it, she was even angrier on Han’s behalf. For all that she gave him grief about being a mercenary, he’d come back at Yavin, and he’d been here for more than two years since. She knew for a fact that he’d made a deal with Rieekan to defer payment on their recent jobs until the Alliance’s cash situation was a little more flush, although she was pretty sure neither Carlist nor Han was aware that she knew that.

And despite his criminal background and his refusal to commit permanently to the Rebellion, Han had standards, the autonomy of beings to decide their own destinies being pretty high up on that list. Han might push her buttons, but he’d never trick or coerce her into something. Especially something so serious as marriage.

 _Oh, boy. Marriage._ The whole thing was still hitting her, she had to admit. She took a deep breath and continued through the hangar.

Han was waiting there to meet her at the ramp. “Hey, Sweetheart,” he said, lips curled up into that familiar crooked grin.

Leia’s heart skipped a beat, despite herself. “Hey,” she returned, pausing a moment to regard him, hand on hip.

He chuckled, then reached for her other hand and led her into the _Falcon_. “Welcome home.”

* * *

Stepping inside the ship immediately put Leia in a better mood. The smell of Chewbacca’s delicious nerf stew was wafting in from the galley, and finally she felt like she could relax.

The Whyren’s Han poured her didn’t hurt, either.

“I take it your debrief went ‘bout as well as you thought?” Han asked, sipping from his own glass.

Leia sighed and slumped in her seat. “Worse.” She looked up at Han. “This isn’t going to be easy, you know.”

“Oh, I know. Weren’t for Rieekan and Mothma, think I’d be in the brig about now. Rest of ‘em think I fuckin’ stole you or something.” He shook his head. “Like you’re a damn piece of jewelry.”

Leia gave a bitter laugh, and took another drink.

“Checked your office earlier. Didn’t find a bug, but….” Han shrugged. “You check your quarters yet?”

Leia nodded. “Yeah. It was clear, but I think you’re right. Too risky.”

“Warmer on the _Falcon_ , too,” Han pointed out. “Look, I can sleep in the crew cots if you don’t want—“

Leia shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I can—“

A signal sounded, indicating someone at the hatch. Carlist, most likely; Luke had the codes and wouldn’t bother ringing. Han got up to let him in and pointed a finger in Leia’s direction. “We’ll talk about it later.”

* * *

Carlist had braced himself for an awkward evening, but he hadn’t quite expected to be manhandled by a Wookiee as a prelude to dinner. Luke Skywalker had arrived shortly after him, and had received something of the same treatment, though his was more on the order of a pat down. Luke’s mood seemed to have improved considerably from earlier, his usual sunny smile returning after Chewbacca was done with Carlist’s search.

“Is this…normal?” Carlist asked Luke.

Luke grinned. “Oh, Chewie’s just being…a little extra protective right now.”

Chewbacca did have something of a protective streak, particularly when it came to these three humans, but this seemed an order of magnitude greater than usual. Certainly this surprise announcement had subjected both Solo and the Princess to more scrutiny than normal, but did it really warrant this level of security, not only for Carlist, but for Skywalker? Why had Chewbacca become so much more concerned _now_?

Unless their marriage wasn’t the only announcement they had to share with Carlist. He sucked in his breath. That possibility had come up during the emergency High Command meeting, and frankly had caused even more consternation than the surprise marriage.

Carlist almost laughed now, recalling Jan Dodonna’s argument in the meeting that Leia had somehow been tricked into marrying Han. “This is so blatantly, dreadfully out of character—“

Rieekan and Mothma had exchanged a look. Leia making a sudden, dramatic decision about her personal life with limited regard for social mores? That actually was one of the most in-character things she’d done since Alderaan was destroyed.

Honestly, whatever the circumstances, if Solo was good to Leia, Carlist was good with their union. Bail Organa would’ve had a few heart palpitations at first, sure, but Leia’s independent nature and penchant for slipping her security detail had already caused her father plenty of cardiac events over the years.

“General,” Han greeted, holding out his hand. “Glad you could make it.”

Breha Organa would’ve had a soft spot for the smuggler, Carlist decided. She would’ve brought Bail around.

“Solo,” Carlist said, accepting his hand and shaking it firmly. “Thanks for having me. And I guess congratulations are in order.”

Han grinned and laughed, almost abashedly. “Yeah, thanks. C’mon in; Chewie says dinner is just about ready.”

Music was playing in the background, and when Carlist entered the lounge Leia offered him a glass of wine. This really was quite the little celebration.

Chewbacca and Luke seemed to have gotten over their earlier issues with Han and Leia, and they all had an enjoyable dinner together, despite the fact that nobody seemed to be discussing the bantha in the room. Carlist had decided it best to let Solo and Leia tell him how this had all come about in their own time, but when Chewbacca started clearing away plates and it still hadn’t come up, he didn’t think he’d be able to hold back much longer.

Thankfully, Skywalker put him out of his misery. Luke really did seem to have gotten over his earlier anger about the situation, and was positively glowing as he raised his glass in a toast.

“To the newlyweds, _Mr_. Organa and _Ms_. Solo!”

Han and Leia both looked a bit sheepish, but exchanged a smile as Carlist, Luke, and Chewbacca tipped their glasses.

“Yeah, so,” Han said. “About that. Guess you’re wonderin’ what happened. There’s, uh, something else you need to know.” Another look passed between him and Leia, and what appeared to be a silent decision about which one of them would break the news.

Carlist thought he was prepared for anything that Leia might reveal. He was not.

“Carlist,” Leia said. “We have a mole on base.”

* * *

They’d expected the Imperial records office on Kalarba to be crowded—that had been the point of doing this meet here in the first place, to blend in—but Leia and Han were unprepared to find couples from all different worlds filling the lobby, nearly wall-to-wall.

 _Wow_ , Leia thought. _You rarely see such a mix of beings outside of a Rebellion cell or an Outer Rim cantina._ Then she laughed inwardly at herself, at the notion that she was now familiar enough with the typical clientele in an Outer Rim cantina to make that judgment.

Of course, most cantina denizens did not hit the bar in their planet’s traditional marriage garb, unlike the couples in this room. The Tanaabi couple next to them were wearing woven flower garlands; the two women to their left had draped their shoulders in ornate scarves of Naboo design; the Sullustan couple in front of them were dressed in the ceremonial red; the Alsakani couple in the corner were carrying bread and salt for their marriage blessing.

The intricate braids on the Naboo women left Leia momentarily distracted. Strange, how something so simple as a hairstyle could bring back a rush of memories in an instant. The elaborate braided updos Breha Organa had worn for special celebrations, that looked like magic but Leia knew to be the result of hours of plaiting and pinning; her mother’s hands on her hair, twisting it into her side buns or braiding it down her back; the arralute blossoms and starflowers woven into the hair of Alderaanian brides and grooms and mates.

Leia’s hair was braided, too, but not in anything resembling traditional Alderaani design. That would basically have been inviting instant arrest, given that her people themselves had essentially been made illegal by the Empire. Instead, she was wearing a traditional Corellian style wedding braid tied with green ribbons, and a light veil that she could use to conceal her face, if needed.

She’d felt a brief pang while pinning the veil to her hair this morning, but she’d quickly pushed it aside. It was the same feeling she’d had countless times, for every milestone that passed after the death of her family, the death of her planet. _Never again_. _Never for the first time_.

She mentally shook herself. _Stop it. This isn’t real, this is a mission. Head in the game, Organa_.

Han squeezed her hand, breaking her away from her thoughts. “Nervous, Sweetheart?” he asked, and she looked up at him.

It was odd— _Han_ looked a little nervous, to be honest. Well, not to the outside eye, but Leia recognized that extra bit of bluster he put on when he was unsure about a situation. He’d actually gotten to stay in his usual clothes, although he was in the nicer bloodstripes and a dark blue jacket, rather than the vest.

She smiled and squeezed his hand back. “Just excited,” she said.

At his grin, her heart quickened a bit, as if her body were taking a cue from her words.

_Kriff, maybe this was a bad idea._

Leia was used to the adrenaline of an undercover mission, to tamping down that fight-or-flight instinct to play her part. She was even used to play-acting with Han; had gotten quite good at it, in fact. Which was why when this opportunity had come up, Carlist had asked them to pose as an engaged couple to reach their contact, an assistant to the traveling magistrate. It was a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity, and Carlist had kept it quiet to avoid Jan Dodonna blowing a gasket at their cover story.

Leia had been grateful for Carlist’s discretion; the gossip floating around base about the nature of hers and Han’s relationship had ramped up significantly over the last few months, and it was getting really distracting. She enjoyed working with Han, considered him a good friend, but she knew she couldn’t rely on him forever. Eventually he would have to leave, and there was no use making that more difficult. And it was already getting harder and harder to convince herself that the little flutter in her chest was about the thrill of the mission, without her thinking about how they looked to anyone else.

There would be hours of standing here among the other engaged couples, pretending to be eagerly anticipating her own nuptials. The traveling magistrate only visited Kalarba twice in a standard year, attracting people from all over the sector who wanted to tie the knot. Once the flurry of ceremonies was in full swing and their group was called, they would have a natural reason for slipping into one of the nearby offices in the building to connect with their contact without arousing suspicion. They just had to wait.

* * *

Hours later, the swarm of couples had reduced to a trickle, their group hadn’t yet been called, and there was no sign of their contact. Leia was beginning to worry that they’d been compromised.

“Not getting cold feet, are ya?” Han asked. He was speaking in the coded language of their cover story, but Leia could sense that he was starting to have qualms about the mission as well.

She turned back to him. “No, of course not. I just wonder—if we shouldn’t have waited and done a big wedding. Like my mother wanted.” It was just part of the façade, but even as she said it, Leia was nearly overcome with emotion. Her wedding on Alderaan would have been a grand affair, had there been a wedding. Or an Alderaan.

Han tipped up her chin and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You wanna go?” he whispered in her ear.

“No,” she whispered back. “Just a little longer.”

He pulled away, nodding, although his hand lingered on her chin briefly and his eyes were soft.

 _He’s really an excellent actor_.

Leia glanced at the official chrono on the wall. Less than two hours left before the office closed, and their window for a meeting with it. If they were going to abort the mission, they needed to do it soon. And if they missed today—well, the data would likely be all but worthless in another half year.

She felt Han squeeze her hand again and pull her closer. “I know, Sweetheart. Can’t wait either. Wait ‘till we get back to Corellia, we’ll have a party like you wouldn’t believe—“

She smiled up at him. “I know.” She remained aware of the room around her, but damn, his eyes were distracting.

The doors to the magistrate’s office suite swung open again, as they had several times throughout the day, and the clerk began reading names off a datapad. “Kam and Shelos. Ungi and Laugurb. Onry and Petph….”

There weren’t many couples left in the lobby; the crowd had been the point. If their names were called and their contact wasn’t there, would they be able to get out without someone taking note of their presence? Leia’s eyes darted to Han’s, and she could see he was making a similar mental calculation: go or no?

“Bell and Idanian.” The clerk called their aliases. Han’s eyebrows went up in a final question, and when Leia gave a slight nod to confirm, _yes, go_ , Han bent down and kissed her quickly on the mouth.

What the hells, she could always claim cold feet at the altar.

* * *

“Don’t wanna be late for that honeymoon, Sweetheart,” Han said. His voice was steady as ever, but his focus was on the dashboard of the speeder, and Leia barely had a moment to strap in before they were rushing away from the downtown sector and towards the spaceport.

Leia checked that the datachips were still safely tucked into their hiding places. It had been quite an intelligence bonanza, well worth the trip. If it was even half of what their contact had hinted at, Draven would be singing their praises for weeks.

But the mission wasn’t really over until they were back at the base, and they had several steps left before that, including taking the ship they’d brought to Kalarba to meet up with the _Falcon_. And while they were reasonably sure they weren’t being tailed now, the series of near-misses they’d experienced inside the double doors of the records office still had both of them on edge.

 _That, and the fact that we just vowed to love and cherish each other all the days of our lives,_ came the unbidden thought.

 _Shut up,_ Leia chided herself again. _I was acting, he was acting_ — They weren’t supposed to have gotten to the vows at all, but it had been their turn. Claiming cold feet at that point would have interrupted the flow, would have been noticed. It was like a matrimony factory in there, churning out waves of newlywed couples, one after the other. Datachip, flimsiwork, license, called in and swept out of the magistrate’s office for the vows, _stamp stamp stamp_ , congratulations on your marriage, long live the Emperor, goodbye. If it hadn’t been for the obvious excitement on the part of most of the waiting couples, it would have seemed about as personal as obtaining your speeder license.

Inside the magistrate’s office, it had gotten disturbingly personal, disturbingly fast. Although that could be chalked up to acting, as well. After handing the magistrate their flimsiwork, Han had looked up, then tapped Leia’s hand in the signal that indicated the presence of holocameras in the room. He raised an eyebrow, and she could almost hear his voice: _Here we go, Sweetheart. Make it look good._

And they had: hands clasped, eyes focused on one another as they repeated the vows. Han fumbling in his jacket pocket for the rings, lifting the veil over her head, kissing her at an angle that hid her features from the cameras as they were pronounced husband and wife.

Their contact was in the room, as it turned out, assisting the magistrate, which explained why his office had been empty when they’d scoped it out earlier. It also made it easier for him to slip them the payoff they’d come for, which Han accepted along with the datachip declaring them married in the eyes of the Empire.

Now, Leia looked over at Han as he wove the speeder through traffic, and he spared her a quick grin. It had been a hell of a day, but she couldn’t have asked for a better partner on this mission. At least when they reached the ship she could finally relax.

* * *

Han hated most ships that were not the _Falcon_ , but he seemed to have a special grudge against the one the Alliance had hired for them to use on this mission. Too slow, not well armed, lots of extra bells and whistles that were sold as “features” but added little to ship performance. _Too kriffin’ fancy. Barely counts as Corellian_ , he’d complained more than once.

Leia was inclined to agree, but she had enjoyed pointing out features like the _deck panels are not held together with space-tape_ and _the controls light up without a strategically-placed fist to the console_ , just to have a little fun with him.

He didn’t seem to be in the mood for teasing at the moment, having been all business on their way out of the system. Now he was silently glowering at the walls of the ship, as if they’d personally wronged him.

 _Whatever._ She didn’t have time for playing detective on Han Solo’s sour mood right now; she needed to get a head start on whatever data was on these chips so there would be time to take advantage of the _fancy bantha shit_ , as Han called it, that came standard on this sort of ship. Like that soaking tub, for instance.

Datapad in hand, she was about to slip her hand into the sleeve where the datachips were secured, when Han took hold of her wrist and pulled her to him.

“Ha—“ she started to say his name, but he stopped the words with a quick kiss.

As he pulled away, Han’s demeanor seemed to have changed instantly, his glare changing to a slight smile, his eyes soft as they’d been in the magistrate’s office. “Sorry, Sweetheart,” he said, taking her hand in his and putting her datapad aside. “Just couldn’t wait to be alone with you. Work can wait, yeah?”

Her lips still tingling, Leia stayed silent. His words, his tone sounded very much like something Han would say, but the mood whiplash made it clear that something was wrong.

His hand slipped over her wrist and his fingers began tracing her hand softly, so softly that it took her a moment to understand the pattern. Three Aurebesh figures, gently drawn into her palm: B. U. G.

She looked up, eyes wide, and he nodded.

_Blast this kriffing ship._

“Yeah,” Leia said, turning over Han’s hand to trace _CABIN_ into his own palm. “Work can wait.”

* * *

Han found himself thanking the Force and whatever gods might have been involved for the fact that they were meeting up with the _Falcon_ before returning to base.

Maybe when they got back they could have a few drinks, have a bit of a laugh about this whole thing. _Hey, remember that time we kinda got married and then had to pretend to be on our honeymoon for a day and a half because there were kriffing holocameras and bugs all over the damn ship?_

He hoped they could laugh about this later. This little wrinkle had made for some uncomfortable blurring of the lines in their real-life friendship. Not that they weren’t blurry enough before this mission, but with all the kisses and the hand-holding and the sleeping side by side in the bunk, it was hard to keep his mind from going to the places he’d strictly forbidden it to go. Not just the sex place, but the place where he started to believe that any part of this was real.

“Our ride almost here?” Leia asked, entering the room with a bag slung over her shoulder. She’d changed her clothes, although the full transformation to her Alliance-issue outfit would wait until they left this ship.

 _And then dream of blasting it and its recorded information into 20 billion pieces_. Just for a moment, he enjoyed the thought of joking with Leia about that, too— _What a shame, we’ve destroyed the galaxy’s most boring holoporn._

“Yep. Right on time,” he answered as Chewie’s hail came through.

They arranged to dock through the hatch, and as they waited to finish connecting with the _Falcon_ , Leia’s eyes flashed to the exit overhead, then back to his.

 _Another holocamera. Damn it._ They must have missed that one when they were taking inventory.

“One more for the road,” she murmured, and this time Leia moved first, pulling him down to her mouth. Not that he much complained when he got there, her soft lips on his again.

 _Acting_ , Han reminded himself. They were both brilliant at it.

* * *

As they finally kicked off from the other ship, Han sighed in relief and turned to Chewie and Luke. “So. Looks like we got a problem,” he began.

Chewie leaping out of his seat, roaring curses and charging at him, was not the response he’d anticipated at all.

“[DAMNED RIGHT WE HAVE A PROBLEM, CUB! HOW DARE YOU!]”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“[THIS IS AN INSULT! HOW DARE YOU GO WITHOUT EVEN A WORD?]”

“What the—“ Han looked at Leia and Luke helplessly. Leia’s expression mirrored Han’s confusion and alarm. Luke’s face was in a deep scowl, so presumably he had some idea of what was bugging Chewie.

Chewie was roaring again. “[YOU DID NOT EVEN HAVE THE COURTESY TO TELL ME! JUST RUN OFF IN SECRET! NO TRUST! NO HONOR! NO REGARD FOR THE LIFE DEBT!]”

Han was at a loss. “What the fuck is he talking about?” he asked Luke.

Luke spared a quick look at Chewie—who was now howling something about how many times he’d saved Han’s ass—then turned a hurt look to Han and Leia as he answered. “Look, I know you two like to be private, but I thought we—I thought we were friends. I mean, I wish we’d been invited, but—were you even going to _tell_ us?”

“Tell you what?” Han asked.

“[IT IS ALL OVER THE BASE! I THOUGHT THEY WERE CRAZY BUT CLEARLY IT IS TRUE!]” Chewie raged.

“ _What_ is true?”

“[YOU ELOPED WITH THE LITTLE PRINCESS!]”

* * *

“Who else knew about the mission to Kalarba?” Leia asked, as she paused in recounting the story.

Carlist shook his head, racking his brain for where he might have slipped up. “Almost no one,” he said. “Officially you were off to Hosk station, looking at new supply lines. Draven and I were the only ones with details beyond that.” Even Chewbacca and Skywalker, who’d been assigned to a “supply run” in a nearby sector and then to meet Han and Leia at Hosk Station, were supposed to have been none the wiser.

Leia nodded. “That’s what we thought.”

Yes, this was bad. This was very bad—and Jan would rightly want to have his head for endangering the Princess that way. That had been some quick thinking on Solo’s and Leia’s parts; if the leaker thought they’d run off privately to elope, maybe they wouldn’t know the real reason the two had slipped away to Kalarba. But that didn’t explain—

“How do you know the leak came from on base?” he asked. Luke and Chewbacca had obviously heard the rumors from someone in the Alliance, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had been on base. Most of the Han and Leia gossip had been confined there, true, but Skywalker was in Starfighter Command, and pilots were worse than the holotabloids when it came to gossip.

“Something the kid said when we docked with the _Falcon_ ,” Han explained. “Y’know, after he and Chewie quit yellin’ at us about not inviting them to the wedding.”

“I never yelled,” Luke protested, though a little of the sullen look he’d had in the hangar this morning briefly flashed across his face. Chewie made a similar growl of protest.

“Luke repeated something Han said to me when we were on Kalarba,” Leia said, obviously working to get them back on track. “Exact words.”

Carlist considered that for a moment. “So they heard you—“

“And then we’re on all-hours candid camera soon as we get back to the ship,” Han added. “So they can catch us slippin’ up, if we’re not _really_ on that honeymoon.” He waggled his eyebrows at Leia, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Carlist decided that it was probably better if he never knew exactly how they’d managed to fake a honeymoon in front of the surveillance cameras. “So what now?” If he knew Leia, she already had a plan.

“Well, the first part of the plan is already going,” Leia said. “Stage a scene in the hangar”— Chewbacca’s angry yelling and Luke’s sulking and then stalking off certainly qualified as that, and Carlist wondered how much of it had been a replay of their original reactions—“and get you alone where we could brief you.”

“I could brief a few members of High Command—“ Carlist began, but Leia shook her head.

“We could use this,” she said, getting that spark in her eye that happened frequently when she had a strategy in mind. “Feed them false info, find the mole, throw off the Imperials completely for a good while.” She paused and glanced at Solo. “There is one potential issue—“

Han grabbed her hand and kissed it in an exaggerated motion. “Aw, Sweetheart. Don’t tell me the honeymoon’s over already!”

Another eye roll, and Leia turned back to Carlist. “We’ll have to stay married for a little while.”


End file.
